


Dancing a dance with no end

by alluxia



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anime fanboys, Dancer Dong Si Cheng | WinWin, Dancers, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, First Love, Fluff, Football | Soccer Player Nakamoto Yuta, Gay Awakening, M/M, Nakamoto Yuta is Whipped, Online Friendship, Really really fluffy fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 06:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alluxia/pseuds/alluxia
Summary: Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [13:25]What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve been dumped? Whatever it is, I’d be more than grateful if you left me alone with your bitterness. Yours sincerely.Yuta enjoys being pricky, enjoys not being called out on this. He used to be a dancer, after all, he's just trying to help! That's until Winwin, that pretty dancer boy talks back to him, leaving him almost speechless. Their initial hostility then matures to friendship, but as Yuta soon realizes, Winwin has changed his world more than he first thought.“Here’s the thing. I think I like him.”“That’s totally gay, bro, I love it.”Or15k words of Yuta being a simp for Sicheng
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	Dancing a dance with no end

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so it's part of a stroy I'll probably never post here cuz I haven't even finished it in my original language, let alone translated all 5k words I have... Mehh.  
> Also I know, I know I kind of messed up their personalities, but that's for the sake of said story.   
> Anyways, enjoy this weirdly cute shit and excuse my English

“Yuta?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Minho sighs, opening his third can of coke that afternoon.

“You realize it’s full of sugar, right?” Minseok tilts his head, shooting a judgemental stare in the boy’s direction.

“Chill, it’s diet,” Minho shrugs, leaning his back against the bed’s headboard.

While they’re arguing whether diet coke is considered a notable cause of second type diabetes, Yuta pays all his attention towards his laptop, scrolling through the recommendations page. He lets out a proud giggle – he’s already seen most of the anime listed.

Minho yawns. “I gotta go. I’m meeting Amber.”

“I’ll be going, too,” Minseok says, grabbing the bag with his unwashed dobuk. It’s his third taekwondo practice this week. The curse of child prodigies.

Yuta looks up at his teammates, nodding a short goodbye before turning back to his laptop. His nail scratches a Death note sticker placed under the keyboard ages ago, his eyes scanning the _fanworks_ platform in lightspeed. The visitors of Norah-san must be going through a creative crisis these days. The same overused redesigns of Naruto characters, occasional pieces of mediocre original content, uncomfortably young children trying to gain fame with zero potential. Just plain awful.

As he scrolls further, a shrinking hope of something nice floating in front of his eyes, he catches a glimpse of a video. He slows down, scrolling back, looking at the title and the description. It’s a… A dance cover of some soundtrack of Fairy Tail. The uploader’s username is Winwin, and Yuta can’t remember seeing him here in his three years of activity on the site.

He clicks his tongue. It was months ago when he last found a decent dance video. Most of the artists are everything but competent, the initial enthusiasm quickly dying upon the lack of positive feedback – sometimes Yuta considers changing his attitude towards them when the only comment is from him, giving constructive (and honestly hurtful) criticism. Besides playing soccer since he was 5, being in one of the most successful junior teams in Korea, he’s been dancing for years until middle school. He stopped it due to the absence of free time, but having a natural talent and a professional past provided him enough rights to point out other’s mistakes.

He stretches his arms before playing the video. He’s already getting ready to pinpoint the critical details, such as possible bad (terrible) posture, precarious technique, bored facial expressions, those small things that add up and completely ruin a performance for someone like Yuta.

The video starts off with (probably) Winwin standing in the middle of a room with huge mirror walls illuminated by a flickering chandelier. _Who even puts a chandelier in a dance room?_ He’s wearing a cheap cosplay version of Natsu’s clothes, hair dyed pink with temporary spray.

“What an authentic idea,” Yuta mutters, eyes fixated on the boy. He starts dancing, limbs moving smoothly. At least he’s skilled. His back is straight, he’s likely received some kind of posture training. Maybe he’s royalty? The prince of, whatever, Candyland? Yuta can’t wait to tear him into pieces with his bare words. The only problem is… He can’t.

Winwin’s movements are truly _royalish_. Various passionate emotions sweep through his small face, Yuta can almost see his eyes burning a hole in the camera. His hands, legs, body, everything moves in perfect synch, it’s all so natural and instinctive. He surely gives his best, and it’s shamelessly gorgeous. When the song stops, Winwin is still there for a few seconds, holding back his pants, before the screen turns into a black background with the words ‘NEOCITY Dance Studio’ in the middle. Yuta hisses, annoyed. For the first time ever, he can’t pick at a dance video. He still does, gritting his teeth as his fingers type a comment. He just can’t decide what to say. His favorite nitpicks are all invalid in this case – Winwin has a good, no, amazing technique, amazing skills, the choreography was truly original and also amazing, he displays his emotions amazingly, even the way he moves his pinky is amazing. He chooses to complain about the poor editing of the video, but that’s not even a real complaint, he just didn’t like the color scheme of the logo. Hopefully, Winwin won’t care about it, anyways.

He closes the laptop, followed by his eyes, and lies down the bed, placing the computer beside him. He feels… Bad. No, not bad, it’s rather an unpleasant feeling of guilt, his own pettiness seems ridiculous. He’s indeed ridiculous.

***

The first thing he does in the morning is checking Norah-san, but Winwin didn’t bother to respond. Relief fills him up as he gets ready for school, a sudden urge to sing something taking over him. His happiness lasts all day long, he owns the soccer field in practice, nearly beheading Minho with a particularly forceful pass. He can’t even talk back when Minho throws various curse words at him.

That’s until he gets home, opening Norah-san, seeing the red dot of a notification next to his profile picture (a rather explicit fanart of some hentai girl with obscenely huge breasts). It’s not unusual to get unwanted messages or flattering comments under his posts. It’s probably someone giving him a virtual pat on the head and praising his content, be it a drawing or a long ass review. What he’s not expecting is a message from no other than Winwin – the boy seemingly took offend at Yuta’s pricky comment.

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [13:25]**

_What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve been dumped? Whatever it is, I’d be more than grateful if you left me alone with your bitterness. Yours sincerely._

Yuta stares blankly at the screen. From what he’s seen, Winwin looked like a fervid but harmless creature. He didn’t forecast him to have such sharp tongue. And such nice English, too, Yuta kind of feels ashamed. There’s nothing he can’t do, except of arguing with someone in English.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [19:57]**

_im here to guide youngsters to the right path. if u cant take criticism, ur the one makin a fool of urself_

To his surprise, Winwin responds within 5 minutes.

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [20:01]**

_Sorry to disappoint you, your majesty, I can’t fuel your superiority complex. You’re the one making yourself an idiot, not me._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [20:03]**

_my WHAT? its not me pretending to be an intellectual_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [20:03]**

_but i wont argue with u_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [20:04]**

_Jerk._

Yuta closes the laptop and rubs his face. Something feels _off_. Maybe he’s being a petty bitch. Maybe he’s unnecessarily rude, meanwhile Winwin just tries to defend himself. Which he has every right to. He’s just an innocent, emerging dancer. It’s not his fault Yuta happens to be a jerk.

He stares at the wall for a whole minute, different thoughts wrestling in his head. A little peeking won’t hurt anyone. He opens the laptop again, clicking at Winwin’s profile. The boy seems to be a huge fan, not reaching the weeb level, though. He’s kind of chill, giving away tons of likes, boosting the creators’ confidence, writing nice, encouraging comments. There’s another dance video, it’s also a Fairy Tail one, and Yuta can’t bear with the temptation to watch it. Winwin moves even more elegantly, his body connected to the music. His face is a little flushed, hair slightly damp, sticking to his forehead, a pinkish trail of sweat shining on his face around the end. The logo is still the same and Yuta feels the sudden urge to google it. His jaw drops at his new discovery. NEOCITY Dance Studio happens to be in the downtown of Seoul. The website has tons of pictures of their dancers. Winwin’s more of a shy kind, according to the gallery, but Yuta still finds some pictures of him. He gulps and closes the laptop before sinking deeper in his research. He needs to calm down a little.

The next few days are… Busy. Practise, endless anime marathons (maybe one or two from Winwin’s favorites on his profile), hanging out with class- and teammates. It’s only a few moments before falling asleep when he has time to reflect on his actions. He clearly was wrong in this case, but he’s too proud to admit it. Winwin didn’t seem to take his commentary personally after all, it just annoyed him (legitimately, to be honest). There’s absolutely no need to apologize.

It’s a Saturday evening, an old sitcom playing in the living room TV. Yuta’s lying on the couch, legs stretched, laptop on his thighs. He’s trying to finish an essay about a patriotic poet’s sentimental poem, the text filled with twisted expressions from the dawn of the 20th century. God bless the Korean language.

He gives up on the essay (he still has a day to finish it, it’s only 300 words missing now), scrolling down Norah-san instead. His feed is the same old shit he’s already seen (he checked it just in case before poem analysis), hot news about one of the most famous writer’s upcoming production, fortunately featuring his favorite voice actor, a few reviews of recent series, a weird compilation of a disturbing hentai manga. He groans, resentful, considering shutting the laptop and playing soccer with the wall instead, but then he sees something that attracts his attention. The title itself is enough to confirm his assumption – it’s Winwin again, with another dance cover. Yuta bites his lower lip. He shouldn’t watch it. He shouldn’t put another knife in his heart (because he truly feels overwhelming guilt building up in him) and involuntarily write something cruel afterwards. He really, really shouldn’t, but when was the last time he listened to his common sense?

It’s a One Piece cover this time, Winwin in an open red shirt and a fucking _straw hat_ , a big grin on his pretty face. Pretty? Come on! A boy can’t be pretty. He’d make a pretty (insanely beautiful) girl, though. But Yuta would make an even prettier one. No wonder why he’s so popular amongst his schoolmates.

Winwin moves, dances with grace, glorious movements feed by restrained strength. Okay, Yuta can’t deny it, Winwin’s an eye-catching person. But it’s only because of his dancing. If he’d stand by him in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, Yuta wouldn’t even notice him. Obviously.

The video comes to an end, and Yuta chokes on air when he sees the logo. The former pale mint color around the text is replaced with a vibrant lime green, the font is cleaner and more organized. The exact points Yuta complained about earlier. His fingertips are already ghosting over the keys, trying to find _something_ to grumble about. He wants to find something, the slightest detail, an incorrect blink of Winwin’s sparkling eyes, but he can’t. He’s petrified, eyes glued to the screen where the thumbnail appears again, with Winwin standing in the middle, same shiny grin dominating his face. Yuta swallows thickly, taking a few deep breaths before clicking on the private message option next to the boy’s name.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [18:55]**

_hey_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [18:55]**

_so im sorry for being a dick the other day_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [18:55]**

_ur dance was actually rly nice_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [18:55]**

_yeah_

He leans back, eyes closed and gives himself a mental high five. Apologizing was never his virtue. Actually, he did a pretty good job here. He deserves a treat after all these things. Living in a Japanese household is more than beneficial when your favorite food is takoyaki and your mother has a natural flair for cooking.

When he’s back with an immoderate amount of octopus in his stomach, the response is already flashing on the screen.

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [19:00]**

_Apology accepted. You still need to attitude though._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [19:00]**

_I’m not that easy to hurt, but you can seriously harm others with your words._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [19:01]**

_Take it as a friendly advice._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [19:07]**

_sigh_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [19:07]**

_right_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [19:07]**

_by the way_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [19:07]**

_I saw u changed the logo_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [19:07]**

_its nice_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [19:09]**

_Don’t think it’s because of you. We didn’t really like it either. So my partner redesigned it._

Yuta stares at the screen, unable to blink. So this boy’s got a partner, huh? So what? Yuta’s got one, too. The fact his partners are always changing is not the point. Now that he thinks about it, having a partner is not even a huge achievement. Of course, Winwin’s got one too, how would someone like him be single? Okay, Nakamoto Yuta, you gotta end this NOW!

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[19:11]**

_its still nice. tell ur partner she did a good job_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [19:12]**

_He. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure he hears it. He loves flattery._

He. He? What the… Okay, it’s not even uncommon for a boy to be with another boy, it’s just… Yuta’s circle doesn’t have anyone with… Such interests and… He’s not really familiar with this whole boys’ love thing, but… Whoever is this guy, he sure is lucky to have W…

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [19:13]**

_Are you a dancer, by the way? Your advices would be actually useful if you didn’t put it that way._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[19:13]**

_i was. now im stuck with soccer_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[19:14]**

_how should i put it then?_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[19:14]**

_they wont understand it otherwise_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [19:15]**

_Your behaviour is fairly demotivating. How about trying to be nice towards random strangers? It’s not that hard, see, I’m not cursing at you or something, even though I could say things to you._

Yuta lets out a giggle and immediately regrets his reflex action. He’s been insulted, it’s not the best reaction to that.

**悠太** **(yuu_taa_1026) [19:17]**

_teach me sensei how can I avoid hurting feelings?_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [19:18]**

_Start off by respecting others. It shouldn’t be hard after that._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [19:19]**

_Instead of saying “your dancing sucks and so do you”, try saying “if you practise enough, your flexibility will improve gradually, try saving the splits for a little later”. It’s a lame example, but do you see the difference?_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [19:20]**

_would anyone listen to me that way? being kind can be a sign of weakness_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [19:20]**

_Well, if you put it that way. But please consider being less of a jerk online and offline, too._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [19:21]**

_For the sake of your healthy social life and general well-being._

Yuta smiles, heartfelt, as he closes the laptop. This boy is… Oh, god.

***

The next time he goes on Norah-san is Sunday afternoon. He’s just finished lunch, and after two bowls of udon, he can’t bring himself to continue his cheap essay. Instead, he settles on the floor in his room, back against his bed, laptop already open. He switches between different parts of the site, reads a few breaking news and recommendations, then changes to the fanworks. He doesn’t need to scroll much, there’s a dance cover of some unknown anime opening. The girl dancing is clearly not a professional, movements rough and without proper force and emotions, but Yuta’s perceptive eyes find her possible strengths, needs to be refined a little, but her legwork is actually pretty good. The video ends in a minute, the little girl beaming proudly, and Yuta finds himself typing his very first encouraging comment, a little wave of warmth sweeping through him.

Hours pass in a forced march, the cloudy afternoon melting into evening, and at around 10 pm, Yuta’s still sitting at his desk, nearly falling asleep as he’s trying to reword the same sentences to finally complete his essay. _What’s a synonym for hyperbole?_ He opens a new tab, ready to do a quick research, but his eyes travel towards Norah-san, just to briefly check if there’s something new. There is.

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [21:33]**

_Woah, look at you. Pleasing the peasants?_

Yuta shakes his head in disbelief. Winwin did notice his comment, he did react to that, and there’s a hidden positive meaning behind his raw words.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:09]**

_what can i say? youve had an impact on me_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [22.10]**

_I’m proud to hear that. Maybe you’re not that terrible as you wanted to be seen._

Yuta smiles, exposed. Winwin sees through him.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:11]**

_i needa keep the façade_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:11]**

_told u i cant be weak_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [22:12]**

_Why would being a decent human make you weak? Are you a mafia child or what?_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:13]**

_i need to look strong so ill feel like im strong_

Winwin doesn’t respond for a few minutes. Yuta sees him typing, then stopping, then typing again. When his word finally appear, they’re strange and unexpected.

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [22:19]**

_You know you don’t have to fake yourself online, do you? You can pretend to be the cool guy in real life, do whatever you want, but why hiding yourself in a place like this? You’ve been a child, too. If not, then… Then I don’t know what to say, but still._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [22:20]**

_You can play pretend with your people, but don’t project your insecurities to innocent strangers on the internet._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [22:21]**

_That doesn’t make you strong. That makes you pathetic._

Yuta blinks, one, two, three times, trying to process the information on the screen. Winwin’s just… Wise. He must be young, maybe even younger than Yuta, but he’s been gifted with wisdom. And he’s right.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:23]**

_ur a nice guy actually_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:23]**

_im kinda thankful for u_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [22:24]**

_I’m flattered._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [22:27]**

_So why did you stop dancing?_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:27]**

_school_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:28]**

_didnt have time. thats a pity I rly liked dancing_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:28]**

_but i liked soccer more_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [22:29]**

_Why do I have a feeling you’re the kind of player who assaults the referee? Mostly wrongfully, of course._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:30]**

_that only happened once. he was biased lets say_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [22:30]**

_Poor soul:((_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [22:31]**

_Did you win at least?_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:31]**

_of course_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:32]**

_now I rly enjoy ur company but gotta go_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:32]**

_ive got an essay due tomorrow_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [22:33]**

_What essay?_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:33]**

_do u know park chonghwa?_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [22:33]**

_Tangentially._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:34]**

_i gotta analyze his poem_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [22:34]**

_i suck at poem analysis_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [22:35]**

_Ehh, you’ve been a good boy. What you have so far?_

And that’s how Yuta ends up with the Korean essay of the decade, with the help of Winwin, that blessing.

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [23:11]**

_It must be hard for you._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [23:11]**

_what?_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [23:12]**

_Living in a country like this. Where you learn about your ancestors being power-hungry control freaks. They always make themselves the good guys, positive?_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [23:12]**

_to be honest i dont care_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [23:13]**

_i used to be ashamed but now ive overcome it_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [23:13]**

_the only thing to be ashamed of now is me_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [23:14]**

_but thats not the point_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [23:15]**

_You know… You can text me someday if you want to. I’m usually up for some chitchat. Only if you don’t change your mind and try to degrade me, of course. In that case I’d rather you leave me alone._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [23:15]**

_sure. lets talk_

***

Yuta indeed texts him someday, on Monday evening, to be precise. He’s all sweaty and wrecked after practise, in desperate need of some sleep, yet he’s sitting on the bed, wearing an obscenely cute Jigglypuff t-shirt, poking his sashimi with his chopsticks. He scrolls through Winwin’s profile, looking for something new before texting him.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [20:00]**

_hey_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [20:03]**

_Hey._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [20:03]**

_do u always put dots at the end?_

**Winwin** **(@wwiinn_7)** **[20:04]**

_I’m texting according to the current grammar rules. Do you need some help understanding it?_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [20:04]**

_no thanx_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [20:05]**

_korean is enough for me. grammar sucks_

**Winwin** **(@wwiinn_7)** **[20:05]**

_You’d look less uncultured if you used proper punctation, capital letters and such mysterious things, you know. Be grateful I even talk to you, your writing is painful to look at._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [20:06]**

_thanx for the lecture mr professor. mine may be painful but urs is the way my grandpa would type if he knew english_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [20:06]**

_and if he wouldnt be death_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [20:06]**

_*dead_

**Winwin** **(@wwiinn_7)** **[20:07]**

_I see you prefer dark humor. Interesting._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [20:07]**

_its cuz im so dark_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[20:08]**

_Well, I’d say I don’t see the light in your future, but that would be a rushed assumption._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [20:08]**

_u have a sharp tongue. I like it_

Auch. Maybe that was too much?

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[20:08]**

_My eyes are even sharper. You’ve just written a capital I. Am I having such strong effect on you?_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [20:09]**

_maybe. im suffering from u_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[20:10]**

_Then it’s a good thing that I gotta go. I don’t know if you’re gonna sleep now (you probably won’t just yet, right?), but here’s a little something you might like. Not sure if you’ve seen it, if you did, watch it again. It’s absolutely stunning._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[20:10]**

_[link]_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [20:10]**

_Sweet dreams, Hello Kitty♡_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [20:10]**

_bye_ _♡_

So now they’re sending hearts. Wow.

***

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:14]**

_how come i haven’t seen it before??_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:21]**

_See, I have a great taste. You should learn from me instead of giving me unnecessary advices._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:22]**

_i havent given u any advice_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:22]**

_i criticized u_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:23]**

_Yeah, that’s so much better, really. Now go watch my latest video._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:23]**

_one piece?_ _\\(_ _★ω★_ _)/_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:23]**

_Go check it. I’ll make a questionnaire about the one I sent you last time. That’s my all time favorite._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:24]**

_as u wish…_

Yuta watches the video in amazement. Winwin owns this cover, the choreography fitting his style perfectly, his movements smooth and flowing, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Winwin just looks so good like this. It’s only the dance. Of course. What else could it be?

Unlike his previous videos, this one is a bit longer, showing off the room after the choreo is finished. Winwin shifts from his ending position, smiling proudly, giving someone a thumbs up. Another boy appears at that, small and petite, bleached hair hanging around his face, weird bangs covering one of his eyes. He goes up to Winwin, giving him a distant hug and a high five.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:29]**

_whos that boy with u?_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:30]**

_Oh. That’s Ten. My partner._

Of course, of course. His partner. Yuta rolls his eyes, staring at Ten, his stupid blonde bangs that look ridiculous, his lack of height, his arms that look like sticks glued to his body. He’s not even attractive. Furthermore, the more he stares at him the least handsome he gets. By the end of the second minute, Ten dead on looks like a toad wearing make-up.

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:33]**

_Yuta, are you here?_

Yuta shakes his head, closing the tab with Ten’s toadness, attention jumping back to the chat. Winwin just called his name. For the first time ever. It shouldn’t feel that good.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:33]**

_yeah yeah im here. i was just thinkin_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:33]**

_About what?_

He hesitates, but what can he lose? Nothing!

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:34]**

_he looks like a toad. no offense_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:35]**

_Wow. That’s not the usual reaction he earns. But hey, his boyfriend still acts all possessive, one less person trying to steal his man._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:35]**

_his… boyfriend? thought he was ur partner?_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [17:35]**

_Oh, god. He’s my DANCE partner, remember, I’m a DANCER! We do couple dances and stuff together. Assuming I let him touch me._

Oh. Oh. right. So… So they’re not that kind of partners, oh. Well. Okay, maybe Ten’s not that ugly, after all. He’s still not as pretty as Winwin. Wait, what?!

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:36]**

_ur not a fan of physical contact, are u?_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:36]**

_I like keeping my distance, yes._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:36]**

_You’re getting smarter and smarter every day._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [17:37]**

_i mean its not hard to guess. u just said that_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:37]**

_True. I just didn’t think you really read what I write._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:38]**

_??_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:38]**

_im literally talking to you every other day but okay._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [17:38]**

_Did you just end your sentence with a dot?_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:39]**

_okay im leaving. bye_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:39]**

_Nooo, don’t leave! We’re yet to fanboy about Fiery Stage._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:40]**

_Now I’ve created this little… Survey or whatever. I’m curious about what you think about the first few episodes. I assume you’ve watched like 3?_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:40]**

_it was 7_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:40]**

_–.–_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17.40]**

_dont judge me its rly good_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:41]**

_u think i could have stopped after ep 3?_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [17:41]**

_Sigh. You’re right. Now tell me who do you support, Chiyo or Midori?_

Before Yuta can even start typing, Winwin’s already texted again.

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:42]**

_Because if you ask me, Chiyo is a better dancer, she’s more skilled and has waaaaay more potential. However, Midori has the charisma to win a dance championship, she’s more of a stage person. But still, Chiyo is better. I think._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [17:43]**

_wow bro chill. chiyo is the blonde right? with those watermelon tits_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:44]**

_How predictable! I just knew you’re gonna point that out, Yes, she’s Chiyo. She was inspired by Maruyama Nozomi. I don’t know if you know her, he’s a great dancer with fairly small chest. Not like I care about it, but still. That’s the one thing I despise about anime._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:44]**

_Oh, and tentacle porn. I nicknamed Ten Tentacles, thanks to an unfortunate incident._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:45]**

_okay tentacles are weird but would u rather see real dicks? yeah me neither_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:45]**

_I’d rather. At least that’s natural. If you prefer tentacles, go fuck an octopus, that’s all I can say._

Okay, maybe he’s right.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:46]**

_look I need to go im meeting my teammates. idk whan ill be next i have a match tomorrow_

Should he write it?

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:46]**

_take care or whatever_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7)** **[17:47]**

_Bye, Yuta. Good luck for your match!_

Yuta closes the laptop, then his eyes, hiding his face under the blanket. Why are his cheeks heating up all of a sudden?

***

“You look tired.”

“No, no, I’m fine. It’s just—”

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Minho waves his hand, expression a mix of boredom and judgement. “You were watching Son Goku, weren’t you?”

“Okay, first of all, that’s called Dragon Ball, please don’t disrespect the classics,” Yuta says in a lecturing tone, raising his index finger. “Second of all, I was watching Fiery Stage. I’m already at the 12th ep, and let me tell you it’s fantastic.”

“Must be something new. I don’t remember you gushing about it,” Minseok laughs, short, before Yuta nudges his side with his elbow. “Ouch! Why are you hurting me?”

“I don’t gush about anything. I try to educate you.”

“As if!” Minho takes a sip from his coke (it’s light, considering the energy he will need to play well), savoring it in his mouth. “Wish it still had cocaine in it. Oh, cocaine! Are you coming to the afterparty? At Amber’s.”

“You remembered it because of cocaine?” Minseok raises and eyebrow in disbelief.

“Yeah. It’s not like I ever consume any kind of psychedelics, just connected the dots.”

Yuta tilts his head, looking at the expanding crowd on the grandstands. It’s a big match, they have to win by at least two goals in order to make it to the next round. His parents and the team is there to provide him the necessary emotional support, but he’s still unsure. He needs to give his best, he’s the captain, the star player, the born-talent, he can’t ruin his or the team’s image. He closes his eyes for a brief second, then opens them immediately. Winwin’s latest text appears in front of his vision, wishing him good luck.

Confidence and power pervade his body as he steps onto the field, knowing he has to give his best performance ever.

“I’m going to the party,” he says in the locker room, sweat-soaked jersey sticking to his heaving chest. His face is of a bright tomato color, his breathing is irregular and fast, just like his heartbeats. He couldn’t concentrate on the match. Or rather, he was too focused on the thing, the person who kept him powerful enough to score four goals in total, including the decisive one, to the crowd’s biggest delight. He spent more than 90 minutes thinking about a random internet boy, his words, his tiny encouragement. He didn’t even say anything special, simply wished him good luck, and that’s the exact reason Yuta needs to push his off button and get wasted. He sure doesn’t wanna lose Winwin, his first ever online friend, he just wants to get rid of the Winwin living rent free in his head, stealing the spotlight from any other thought.

“That’s my man,” Minho exclaims, putting an arm around his shoulder.

Yuta gives Winwin 5 more minutes of attention under the cold shower, forehead against the tiles, and when he comes out, only a towel wrapped around his waist, he’s finally Winwin-free.

Amber’s house is nowhere to be enormous, the kind you see in American teen movies, but it’s big enough for about twenty-five people to fit. The soccer team and their (girl)friends, Amber’s cute classmate, Krystal, some past members of the team and a few boys and girls Yuta can’t recall.

He smiles to himself, satisfied, a bag of various alcoholic drinks hanging on his shoulder. He just happens to know a place that doesn’t ask for an ID. They arrive at around 8 pm to a moderate bustle of the guests, some of them already laughing louder than usually, sobriety long forgotten. Yuta chuckles at the sight of his tipsy mates. They’ve been to countless parties together, but this sight is always entertaining, especially when he’s not drunk yet.

He sees a particularly pretty face in the middle of the living room. He knows her – Kim Sieun, Minseok’s classmate, a successful gymnast girl with various golden trophies on her shelves. They’ve never actually talked, but ever since she and Minseok worked together on a group project and befriended each other, she occasionally shows up at these parties.

Sieun is sitting alone on the sofa, drinking slowly from a sunflower printed paper cup, eyes big and full of curiosity as she looks through the room. Yuta pulls out his most tempting face and approaches her, opening a can of beer during his small walk.

“Can I sit here?”

“Sure,” Sieun smiles shyly, taking another sip from her cup.

“What are you drinking?”

“Mojito, I believe. Tastes kind of bland, though. How ‘bout you? Oh, beer!” Her dark doe eyes lit up, lips slightly pouting as she stares at the can Yuta’s holding. The boy cocks his head and hands her the freshly opened beer. Sieun imbibes half of it with one gulp, sighing in content when she parts from the metal. She smiles at Yuta, more confident this time, pupils slightly bigger. Yuta returns the gesture, lips stretching around a perfectly white set of teeth, and takes the leftover from her to drink it. It’s gonna be a nice,a really really nice night.

***

Yuta’s head is about to split in two, at least according to the pulsating pain around his forehead. Being hungover is not exactly his favorite pastime activity, but the night was worth it. Sieun proved her lack of gag reflex is present when it comes to things other than alcohol, and she showed off her insane flexibility. If it wasn’t for distracting his wild thoughts, she’d satisfy his desire for sexual gratification anyways, for a long period. But this is not the case.

He’s in a bedroom (hopefully not Amber’s parents’), Sieun peacefully snoring next to him, their clothes everywhere on the floor. He checks their groupchat with Minho and Minseok, but the boys haven’t texted yet. They must be sleeping somewhere.

He types down a message about his awake state and assumed location, and for a good five minutes, he just stares at the wall in front of him, examining a fly’s movements on the pale yellow wallpaper. No doubt it’s the parents’ room.

When he doesn’t get a respond, he attempts to get up, but Sieun’s arms are holding him tight, not giving him much space to even shift a bit. He ends up surfing on his phone, carefully avoiding Norah-san. He can’t resist the urge to finish Fiery Stage in his sudden free time, though.

When his friends finally show up, he’s already done with the last episode, eyes almost teary as he thinks about the final scene. Chiyo won the competition, elegantly sweeping everyone down from the stage, including Midori, who just turned into an annoying bitch near the end. When Minho cracks the door open, cautiously looking in, he’s fortunately escaped from Sieun’s inhuman grip. He never knew gymnasts had such strong arms.

“Warn me next time, dude!” Minho snaps, shutting his eyes close when Yuta climbs off the bed au naturel.

“You’ve seen me naked more than I’ve seen myself,” Yuta shakes his head and regrets it straight away as his headache recrudesces, sharper than before.

“I know, I know. I just walked on in a guy jerking off in the bathroom. And he asked me to help him, oh my god! I’m not homophobic or anything, but god save me from any foreign phallus!”

Yuta sighs sympathetically. Minho must have been traumatized.

“Anyways, I’m good now. I’ve had a very enjoyable conversation with Krystal.”

“Conversation, huh?”

“I mean, our mouths and tongues were involved, so yeah, I’ll call it a conversation. Chitchat. Discussion.”

“Okay, okay, got it,” Yuta rolls his eyes and comes out of the room as quietly as possible. He has no intention to wake Sieun up, at least not when he’s dying from hangover.

“Consultation,” Minho continues as they’re going downstairs to pick Minseok up. “Colloquy.”

“What is wrong with him?” Minseok furrows his brows. Yuta just waves his hand, then nods towards the door.

“Powwow. Intercourse.”

“Yeah, that, intercourse. We get it, you two were making out, what’s the big deal?” Minseok sounds sort of annoyed, and meanwhile Minho is busy euphemizing the act of eating Krystal’s face, Yuta turns to him.

“You okay?”

“Yes, thanks. I’m just hungover. And generally exhausted.”

“You have taekwondo today?”

“No, no,” Minseok smiles softly, then his expression darkens. “I have kendo. Just imagine me flailing with that stupid sword. Like a halfwit knight.”

“Won’t you stop doing something? Your life is basically running from practise to practise. Isn’t it tiring?”

“It is, you know that,” Minseok grimaces, looking like a cat that’s been offered spoiled tuna. Yuta _does know_. He’s been doing only two sports before and he was still on the verge of burning out. And then there’s Minseok, the adorable little Minseok, the perfect student and athlete, the amazing wingback, the master of martial arts, taking vocal and dance classes (and gladly accepting Yuta’s helping hand) for his future idol career, barely sleeping now. He’s there, at the peachy age of eighteen, fatigue already taking over his body.

“Then why doing it? Is it because of your mother?”

Oh, yes. Minseok’s mother, a real beast in angelic disguise. She cooks deliclios meals every day, awaits Minseok with freshly squeezed orange juice every morning, irons his pyjamas every evening. And then there’s the side of her Minseok is terrified of, while Yuta and Minho simply want to expel it with the urgent help of an exorcist. If Yuta has superiority complex, that woman has inferiority complex. She got pregnant right after high school, giving birth to the fantastic boy we know as Minseok, forced to give up on her way too ambitious dreams. She can’t fulfil them – let’s use the reason for this purpose.

“Partly because of her. Look, Yuta, I’ve just grown to this. I can’t wake up one day and stop going for practise. It’s my life. Wake up, morning training, school, afternoon practise, evening class, pre-diner work out, sleep, but then the alarm goes off at four and it starts all over again. I can’t just break my routine, you know. No matter how much I’d love to.”

Yuta bites his lip, trying to say something, but he’s left speechless. Minseok doesn’t seem to talk about it anymore, he forces a modest smile and turns to Minho, who’s still chanting synonyms.

“Tête-à-tête. Okay, this sounds so good! I’m gonna use it more often.”

***

When he arrives home and consumes some cold water and an aspirin, Yuta doesn’t go on Norah-san immediately. Distracting himself with girls and alcohol is one thing, distracting himself with worrying about one of his best friends is another, and while it’s at the opposite end of the joy scale, he needs to figure out something. What if he kidnaps Minseok? He can’t be reported to the police, can he?

He spends half an hour with going through numerous ideas, each more and more impossible than the previous. He finally gives up. It won’t help Minseok if he also goes crazy.

As he expected, Winwin’s message waits for him. Nothing big, just a “How was the match?”, but his heart flutters at it. Yeah, that’s it. Avoiding Winwin’s image came to an end.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:12]**

_we won. i scored four_

After pressing send, he lets out a broken sigh.

Norah-san has, among other nice features, an option to set people to see when you’re available. Yuta didn’t even think about it before – he kind of forgot about it –, but Winwin did. The little dot beside his profile picture says he was available one hour ago.

Yuta’s heart beats faster at this discovery.

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:23]**

_Wow, congrats. Okay, you have a little right to feel superior. Just don’t act it out._

Yuta nearly chokes on his fried rice as he tries to respond as fast as he can.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:24]**

i dont. i just acknowledge im the best

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:25]**

_And I really thought you’re gonna back off a little._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:25]**

_Anyways, where you’ve been for this long? If it’s not too personal, of course._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:26]**

_oh i was at a party. with my team and friends_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:26]**

_I see. Was it good?_

Yuta hesitates. It… Was good, it really was, but… But it was good because he stayed away from the thoughts he actually wanted to have.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:26]**

_yeah not bad. im hungover_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:27]**

_Poor soul. Try taking a hot shower or something. And sleep._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:27]**

_wow thankx. how u know much about hangover? i mean i didnt think u drink_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:27]**

_I have friends, you know. Being the youngest makes me the babysitter._

**悠** **太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:28]**

  1. _that sucks. yeah. anyaways i finished fiery stage and oh_



**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:28]**

_And?! How did you like it?_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:29]**

_midori was a bitch at the end. team chiyo. u were right_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:29]**

_Oh course I was right. I’ve seen that anime more times than you can imagine. Don’t think I’m obsessed, but it’s just so good._

Yuta softly smiles at the screen. It’s so good, indeed.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:30]**

_dont u wanna make a cover for the opening?_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:30]**

_i mean its quite dancy and all_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:30]**

_ud own it_

Maybe he shouldn’t have said it, but hey, it was a compliment, a real fucking compliment, Winwin should be grateful!

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:31]**

_Truth is I have a choreo for that. It’s not bad at all, but not good either. I’m not… Comfortable with it._

Yuta doesn’t give himself the time to consider texting it before he does.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:31]**

_u can show me if u wanna so i might give u my constructive criticism hehehe_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:31]**

_u dont have to of course but if u wanna_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:32]**

_i wont be a pricky bitch_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15.32]**

_Promise you won’t be?_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:32]**

_promise_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:33]**

_Sigh. Alright. Here you go. Don’t judge. It’s not even finished._

_Winwin (@wwiinn_7)_ _sent a video_

Yuta’s hand trembles as he clicks play. Winwin’s not cosplaying this time, which is understandable, and Yuta, bona fide, ignores the fact he wouldn’t mind seeing the boy in Chiyo’s costume. Instead of a sparkling skirt, Winwin’s wearing sweatpants and a big, powder blue jumper, the sleeves covering half his petite hands. His hair has no temporary color this time, it’s plain blond, a neat, fluffy border around his unfairly pretty face. He takes a deep breath before the music begins, body starting to move at the first beat, unfamiliar insecurity in his movements. The video lasts about one minute, Winwin’s immersed in concentration, maybe even changing his original plans during his dance. Yuta can see how unprofessional it looks, but of course it does, it’s just a sample, a trial of how the choreography would look like. And Winwin’s still stunning. Uncomfortably stunning.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:38]**

_god ur good. like rly rly good_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:38]**

_Thanks, I guess._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:38]**

_But wait._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:39]**

_You said I’m good, while it’s still rudimentary. Does hangover make you nice?_

Yuta bites his lip, embarrassed. Yes, he knows, he knows how strange he acts, but he can’t be rude, he can’t hurt Winwin, plus it’s indeed really really good for a rudimentary choreo. Nobody could have done it like Winwin. It’s his aura or something.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:40]**

_u said I gotta be kind. im being kind. and ur good. u know that_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:41]**

_May I ask you a favor?_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:41]**

_sure_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:42]**

_So I was thinking maybe you could help me finish it. Only if you want to. I don’t force anything._

Yuta’s heart jumps to his throat, then sinks to his stomach. Winwin, magnificent, beautiful Winwin wants him to help with his choreography? What a stupid dream!

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:43]**

_u think im competent enough?_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:44]**

_You may be an asshole, but you have an eye for this. Also, I haven’t seen you dance yet. I haven’t seen you at all, to be honest. And I’m sure that busty lady on your pfp is not you, I remember accidentally stumbling into her on a supposedly innocent site. If you know what I mean._

Oh, yes. Yuta knows. He needed to change sheets immediately after watching the video in question.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:45]**

_believe me im not that good looking_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:45]**

_but ill help u if i can. my pleasure_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15.46]**

_Good. I count on you. I was thinking something upbeat yet, well, sensual. Similar to the original._

Yuta gulps, eyes wide open. The… The original? The original choreo featuring Chiyo and Midori in tight, colorful dresses, swaying their hips like crazy. Winwin doing that is too sinful to imagine, even for Yuta, hardcore hentai-fanboy.

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [15:47]**

_It’d be the best if we could plan a couple choreography so I can dance with Ten, but anything’s fine. I trust you._

Yeah, Ten again. Okay, he’s got a boyfriend, but that means he’s at least bi, which means he’s attracted to boys, and since Winwin is a boy, and a quite engaging one (strictly objectively), therefore he can decide not to be faithful and make an inappropriate move on Winwin and—

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[15:47]**

_lets do it_

Yuta spends the rest of his weekend going through various dance videos, seeking for inspiration, and as a pleasant side effect, he only thinks about Winwin professionally, as if they’re coworkers in the top-notch of the dance industry. Yeah, it’s fine. Totally fine.

On Sunday afternoon, he borrows Minseok’s garage and sets up a hurried studio with a crackling JBL and a cheap camera. He even convinces Minho to be his cameraman, just to make sure the quality is not embarrassingly bad. He can’t send Winwin just anything, after all. The choreo he made is based on the original, yet he tried to be as innovative as possible, paying attention to the criteria. Winwin asked for sensuality, and although Yuta’s very first thought was to grind against the floor, he stayed with flowing hip movements and subtle body twists instead. He doesn’t want Winwin to think he’s a pervert.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:44]**

_here u go_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:44]**

_its not my best, but hope u like it_

_悠太_ _sent a video_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[17:44]**

_sorry for my maniac face btw_

Before filming, Yuta tried on at least five different outfits. Minho, the supportive friend grimaced at all but one, a slightly cropped black t-shirt with tight, open knee jeans. Yuta agreed, too; he didn’t wanna look neither like a homeless nor a CEO. And fortunately, Minho didn’t question why he cared so much for his appearance. He raised an eyebrow when Yuta insisted on brushing his eyelashes, but he took it as his friend’s usual will to look desirable from the distance.

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [17:59** **]**

_This is… Wow. Okay, now I get why you were like that. This is fantastic. And… You look good, too._

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026)** **[18:00]**

_sorry i have practice. gotta go. well catch up later. bye_

Before Winwin can answer, he shuts the laptop, throwing it aside. Amazing.

***

“Come here, Hayami,” Yuta mutters, lying down the bed. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers, Pikachu-patterned, a generous gift from Minho. It’s been an unusually long time since he last logged in _Baniraprincess_ , the site that acquainted him with the world of hentai, where the animated girls call him whatever he wishes and act out his requests. He didn’t feel like it these days, for an unknown (well-known) reason.

His right hand creeps down his abs, down to his knee on his inner thigh, then back up, stopping at his crotch. The girl on the screen looks stunning, a curvy yet dainty body barely hidden under a lacy babydoll. Yuta sucks on air, his hand dips under his boxers and… And nothing happens. He stares at Hayami, her visuals used to be the cause of the vast majority of his wet dreams, but they don’t seem to work. In fact, Yuta’s a bit grossed out at her weird body portions.

He takes a painfully deep breath as he clicks on customization. Hayami, his all time favorite character waits for him with an alluring smile, but Yuta’s planning on doing something unholy to her. The first thing to disappear is the unnaturally huge pair of breasts, closely followed by her shoulder-length locks and big, pink eyes. He hesitates, still unsure if he should do it, but hell, he wants to do it, it’s not like he’s harassing someone, he’s just creating an experience. A totally platonic, innocent experience.

Hayami’s inviting expression doesn’t disappear with her thin figure. She doesn’t even flinch at the sight of her new, muscularly slim body, her short blonde hair, her smaller, dark brown eyes. After long minutes of customization, a female drawing of Winwin looks back at him from the screen.

“I’m going to hell for this,” he whines, but his lower regions react positively. Fuck.

***

“Oh, before I forget,” Minseok turns to Yuta, giving him a little smirk, “Sieun was a bit upset you didn’t contact her, but she said if you’d like to, you two can have ramen together someday.” He even adds a wink at the end.

“Oh, well, umm. Tell her it’s a tempting offer, but I gotta turn her down.”

“Why, though? You’ve fucked the night away, she must have been good,” Minho adds, opening his diet coke.

“It was, yeah.” Yuta awkwardly scratches the back off his head. Is it a good idea to tell them?

“Then why? Jerking off to hentai is outright pathetic. Yeah, she’s not a DD, but—”

“I need advice.”

“Huh? You need advice how to bang a girl? I love you, bro, but there are some things that cross that line and—”

“I’m not talking about banging her! It’s something else, okay? I’m kinda screwed.”

“Oh, so _you’ve_ been banged, ahh, I see,” Minho laughs, but Yuta’s expression freezes his beam. “Okay, you scare me. Did she really peg you?”

“God, no,” Yuta shakes his head fast. Why does he have to be so Minho?

“Does it have to do anything with her at all?” Minseok asks, tilting his head.

“Yeah. No. I don’t know.”

“Let’s just sit down first.”

“We start in five minutes.”

“Who cares,” Minseok waves his hand. “We’re always in time, it won’t hurt once if we’re late.”

“Okay. Okay.” Yuta sits on the bench, eyes fixated on the ground as he fiddles with his thumbs. He can’t back off now.

“So. I’ll ask again, is it Sieun? I mean I’d never make a move on her, we’re friends, but she’s really attractive. And famous for her flexibility. I know you like flexibility.”

“I do.”

“Then what’s wrong? She’s not asking you to date, just some bedtime adventures. Or… You wanna date her? That’s it?”

“Hell, no! I mean she’s nice and hot, but I don’t wanna date her. I don’t wanna sleep with her either. I don’t wanna sleep with anyone.”

“Aha! That’s it! You’re not horny enough to function properly. Gosh, men,” Minho sways his head in fake judgement, acting like he doesn’t think with his dick.

“I am horny, and that’s the problem. Listen,” he finally looks up, “there’s someone I might… Like? No, I don’t like him, but I did some impure things to him and now I don’t know what to do.”

“Him,” Minseok says softly, and Yuta wants to disappear.

“Yeah. I mean… He’s not a too masculine boy, he’s very very pretty and slim and he’s a dancer and when he dances, he looks so fucking good and yes, he’s way too flexible.”

He expects many things to happen, but not Minho clearing his throat and talking in the most supportive and cheering voice ever. “Who is your mysterious pretty boy?”

“He's from Norah-san. His name is Winwin.”

“Who names their child Winwin?” Okay, old Minho is back.

“That’s his username,” Yuta shoots him a sharp gaze, but then his face drops. “I don’t even know his real name.”

“Why don’t you ask then?”

“I don’t know, we don’t really talk about trivial stuff like this. He knows my name and that I live in Korea. He lives here too, in Seoul.”

“Seoul, Seoul,” Minseok savors the word on his tongue before giggling like a child. “It’s not far from here. Why don’t you two meet up?”

“It’s complicated. He’s only seen my face once. We’re practically strangers. That would be weird and awkward.”

“Online friendships quickly die if one doesn’t make a move. Come on, text him, ask his name, chat about your favorite colors or whatever. If you really have feelings for him, you need to take control over things.”

“I don’t even know how I feel. He’s a boy, after all.”

“So what? Being gay, or bi, or anything is cool. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Fantasizing about anime girls, however, is quite ashaming.”

“What if I designed an anime girl to look like him?” Yuta bites his lower lip, face blushing. Minseok looks borderline disgusted, but Minho just laughs at his face.

“Now THAT’S pathetic. Go meet him and fuck him, because this is literally the worst you can do.”

“Chill, man,” Minseok rolls his eyes at their friend, then turns back to Yuta. “Text him. Right now. Ask his name for a starter.”

“Okay, okay, stop nagging me.”

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [18:05]**

_yo winwin_

He’s available too. Oh, fuck.

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [18:06** **]**

_Sigh. Since I know your name, it’s only fair if you know mine. So call me Sicheng from now on._

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [18:06** **]**

_What’s up, Hello kitty?_

“Well, fuck,” Minho says intelligently.

“Now what I tell him?” Yuta asks, panicked. He didn’t prepare for Winwin to read his mind.

“What’s his favorite color? Food? Band? Flower? Anything, actually. Just don’t let him wait too long.”

“No, that’d be awkward. I need something more… Ah, yes!”

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [18:07]**

_so i was thinking we need to talk the choreo through and its not the most comfortable in text_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [18:07]**

_so idk if youre up to it or anything but we could talk on skype or something_

“Wow, clever,” Minho pats his shoulder.

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [18:08** **]**

_Hmm, okay. Are you free tonight?_

Yuta’s heart skips several beats at that.

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [18:08]**

_sure_

**悠太** **(@yuu_taa_1026) [18:08]**

_at 8?_

**Winwin (@wwiinn_7) [18:09** **]**

_Perfect. Now if you excuse me, I have dance practise. See you later!_

“So? What do you think?” Yuta looks up from his phone, nervously chewing the inside of his cheek.

“You were perfect.”

“For real?”

“For real. Don’t forget to mention us while you’re talking, but let’s go now, I don’t wanna be kicked out,” Minseok gets up, stretches his arms and jogs towards the field.

***

Arranging the Skype meeting with Winwin, was easier than Yuta thought at first. He willingly gave him his name, and Yuta didn’t really find anyone else called Dong Sicheng (such a sweet sounding name if you ask him). And now he’s there, at 7:59, calling the boy of his current dreams.

“Hey,” Sicheng says when he picks up, and oh god, his voice is warm and deep and it sounds so lovely. There’s a soft smile on his face and Yuta nearly melts at that. He suddenly feels insecure in his old, stained tank top. Nakamoto Yuta has never felt insecure about his looks before. His hair is messy and still sweaty after practise. He’s more than thankful Sicheng can’t smell him through camera because he’d most likely pass out.

“Hey,” Yuta responds, reciprocating Sicheng’s smile, teeth shining brighter than the lamp above his head.

“I like your posters.”

Yuta titters. Yes, the posters. He bought a Fiery Stage one a week ago, finding it his most difficult purchase ever. He’s more than glad Sicheng showed him this masterpiece, he wouldn’t have even heard of it otherwise.

“So. About the dance,” he clears his throat.

“Wait a minute before. I wanna watch your face,” Sicheng chuckles, making Yuta blink fast. “What? I’ve only seen you once. I wanna see your face in this light, too.”

_You’re adorable_ , Yuta wants to say, but swallows it and lets out a fake giggle instead. Winwin’s wearing a light pink sweater this time, looking so good on him. Yuta breathes in sharply, feeling his piercing gaze all over himself. After he stared enough, Sicheng finally speaks.

“I watched your version tons of times. You’re honestly good. Such a shame you don’t dance anymore.”

“I’m considering continuing it, to be honest. Not that much as before, but one or two hours at a studio won’t hurt.”

“I support the idea. No doubt you’re a great soccer player, but the world of dancers needs you. See? This is how you compliment people.”

“Well, I’m still not sure if I should continue,” Yuta’s smile grows bigger and bigger, just like the other’s. “You’d still outshine me.”

“Oh my. Oh my god. What happened to you?” Sicheng shakes his head in disbelief.

_You_ , Yuta almost says out loud.

“You have a positive impact on me.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Now let’s get down to business. I’d like to keep most of your stuff, if that’s okay for you. I have some favorite parts from mine, but you won this round.”

“I liked yours better. I mean you’re gonna dance it anyways.”

“Yeah, about that,” Sicheng laughs sheepishly, a light blush appearing on his face. “So I happen to know you live in Korea.”

“Yeah.”

“And. Well. Me too. I don’t precisely know where you live, but I live in Seoul.”

“Daegu. Not exactly Daegu, but close. Why?”

“No, it’s nothing, it’s just… But no, I know you’re busy and all. Forget it.”

“Forget what?” Yuta stares incomprehensibly. But then it clicks. And oh. “Like, you wanna dance together or something?”

“As I said before, you’re busy and I’m busy too and stuff and you’ve already done so much for this choreo, it’d be a bitch move to even ask you to dance with me, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, Sicheng, I’d… I’d really like to dance with you,” Yuta says timidly. The other’s face relaxes at that, heartwarming smile appearing again.

“Okkkkkay then. I don’t know what would be better, if I visited you or you visited me. Or we meet halfway, I don’t know. Neo is a nice studio, though, but it’s not a ten minute trip from you, so you can still turn it down if you wanna—”

“No, Sicheng. You’re a fucking amazing dancer, it’d be the worst decision of my life if I turned this offer down. Seriously.”

“Are you sick? Or hungover again? Why act so sweet all of a sudden?”

“I can change back if you want to,” Yuta shrugs, lips in a painfully wide beam.

“No way. I like this Yuta better. Not like I hate or dislike you anyways. Anymore.”

“I may be the rude bitch, but you’re one too sometimes.”

“You have to earn my kindness.”

They chat for another hour before waving goodbye. Yuta’s about to binge watch something, but he checks his Facebook beforehand. A new friend request from none other than Dong Gorgeous Sicheng.

***

It’s been a long time since he first talked to Sicheng, that precious little boy with those warm eyes and adorable smile, and as they spend more and more time together on various virtual platforms, Yuta finds himself picking up some of his habits, or just everyday Sicheng things. The most significant is obviously his improving grammar. They’ve switched to Korean god knows when, yet Yuta’s English skills also show a shocking progress. He still doesn’t always use proper punctation and capital letters, but he always starts Sicheng’s name with one, and started writing you instead of u. Small things the other never forgets to point out.

**Winkwink**

_this is so random but do you like takoyaki?_

_That Japanese octopus ball?_

_yeah that_

_I don’t know, never tried it. Sounds weird. Why?_

_idk i just realized i dont know certain things about you_

_things you like and stuff_

_That’s mutual. I don’t know these either._

_i think you can guess my fav food_

_Oh, right. Octopus balls. Must be tasty._

_dont be like that:(_

_i dont judge your taste either_

_You don’t even know my taste_

_then tell me_

_what you like_

_and ill tell you what i like_

_because you obviously care about it_

_I do, actually. Okay, let’s play. You ask something, then I ask, and we both have to answer. To avoid uncomfortable questions._

_deal_

_whats your fav food_

_?_

_Hot pot._

_And tiramisu._

_But only if it’s sweet and creamy._

Sweet and creamy, huh?

_you already know mine_

_your turn_

_What’s your favorite color?_

Instead of saying it, Yuta simply sends him a picture of a sunflower field.

_Nice. I’m chick, I like black and white._

_okay so_

_if you could be an anime character who would you be and why?_

_I’d be someone original. Winwin, the worldwide champion dancer, the son of a poor fisherman who changes the world with his dancing and returns to his father with the prize money to live happily after all._

Yuta vacillates between saying _that’s so pure_ and something else, but he goes with the second.

_so you want your mother to die?_

_You’re terrible, Nakamoto Yuta. I have to remind myself everyday why I love you._

Say WHAT?

_id be inuyasha_

_he looks badass_

_i wanna grow my hair and dye it white_

_i wouldnt look that badass but still_

_You’d look great with that hair, I swear. Do it, I say. For real._

_would you dye my hair for me?_

_I wouldn’t trust myself for this, but if that’s what you want, I offer you my services._

***

With the advent of spring break, Yuta has an uncommon amount of free time. He’d normally spend it with watching anime, going to parties, hooking up with someone and hanging out with his friends (fortunately Minseok also tend to have more time when there’s no school, although he uses most of it to get over sleep deprivation), but this time is different. They decided it’s better if they practice and make the video in Neo’s dance room, and since it’s not a short process, Yuta can stay at Sicheng’s for a few days.

“So you’re going to steal hearts, right?”

“Chill. I don’t even know if he’s single. I haven’t ever asked. And even if he is, the chance of him liking boys is relatively small, and we haven’t talked about liking me specifically yet!”

“Okay, let’s have a look at the facts and signs,” Minseok says. The three of them are in Yuta’s bedroom, packing his bag for the trip of his life. “First, he’s flirting with you.”

“That’s not flirting, that’s friendly teasing. There’s a difference,” Yuta scoffs, but deep down he knows Sicheng does flirt with him. Sometimes. Other times it’s really just a thing between friends, the most platonic relationship possible. It’d be so lame if they never flirted with each other somehow. Everyone does that.

“Second, he’s complimenting you a lot.”

“On my dancing, yes. Because we’re in sort of a partnership, you know. I’m going there to dance together.”

“Third, he actually expresses positive emotions towards you.”

“So what? He always says I’m rude and senseless, of course he’s acting kind and nice.”

“Fourth, he says things to you you wanted to say to him.”

“That’s true, but…” Yuta stops mid-sentence. This one’s a bit suspicious if he thinks about it that way. He wanted to ask if he could crash at Sicheng’s house while he’s in Seoul, and right before he asked it, the boy offered him his guest bed (rhetorically, Yuta has seen his room plenty of times, he doesn’t have any beds beside his own). When they were planning the duet version of the choreo, Sicheng preceded him in suggesting some moves that require touching each other. When they talked about the outfits, Sicheng proposed the idea of wearing skirts (a thing Yuta wasn’t brave enough to say anyways; he’s imagined Sicheng in nothing but a pretty skirt long before the other mentioned it). Conclusion: he must be a mind-reader.

“Don’t look for weak little excuses.” That’s from Minho, who’s responsible for choosing Yuta’s underwear for his visit. “Accept he might like you and show up in these,” he laughs deafeningly and lifts the Pikachu boxers. Minseok appreciates the idea with a loud clap of his hands.

“Can you please be a bit more serious? I can’t wear sweats and expect him to fall for me.”

“Why, though? Gray sweatpants are famously seductive,” Minseok grins, inspecting the pants at issue.

“I wanna look hot but not too suggestive. I don’t wanna scare him!”

“Okay, do you wanna go shopping or something?”

“No, I have enough clothes, just nothing feels right.”

“And they say women can’t decide what to wear,” Minho chuckles. Yuta gives him a killing gaze.

An hour later his bag is finally packed. He ended up showing the gray sweats in, along with his favorite black jeans and a few t-shirts, the ones that highlight his body the most.

On Tuesday morning, Yuta walks towards the bus stop, mood fluctuating between fearless and anxious. The trip is long and a bit lonesome, but at least he has the time to think about his feelings. He needs to come to terms with them before arriving to Seoul.

Yes, it’s already proven he likes Sicheng. He discovered it two days after their first Skype, when the boy sent him a pic of his hands forming a heart. Yuta couldn’t sleep that night, tossing and tumbling in bed. His friends strengthened his hypothesis, Minho went even further and declared it as love. Would it be that?

Besides the obvious, he can’t make a move on Sicheng. That boy is too precious to lose. And if he confessed or did anything similar, he’d lose that gorgeous thing for good. He can’t let that happen.

But he also can’t bear with his intense feelings. He already yearns for Sicheng and they haven’t even met yet. The next few days are gonna be the cruel mixture of heaven and hell.

To his displeasure, he can’t figure anything out before the bus stops at the terminal.

Sicheng’s already there, waiting for him in a thin, sunflower colored sweater. Yuta’s heart beats faster than ever as he steps closer to him, closing the space between them until they stand only a few inches away. Sicheng mentioned it enough times, Yuta remembers clearly, so he leaves a little more room between them.

“Hi there,” Sicheng smiles, voice higher pitched than usually. He must be nervous too. This thought makes Yuta feel less insecure.

“I like your shirt.”

“Oh, thanks. It’s your favorite color, I was obligated to wear it. Do you need help with those?” He points at the bags in Yuta’s hands, but the Japanese just shakes his head.

“It’s mostly clothes. And food. My mom insisted on cooking something for us.”

“How sweet,” Sicheng chuckles, ignoring Yuta’s words and taking one bag from his hand. “Shall we get going? To my house first, it’s just a few streets down.”

“Sure.”

The Dong residence is small, but very, very cozy and welcoming. There’s nobody home and Sicheng guides him right to his bedroom on the upper floor. Yuta’s still amazed at the tiny but pretty room, especially the excessive collection of posters on the walls. The biggest space is in front of his wardrobe with a mirror door.

“Sometimes I dance here. Not that comfortable, but better than nothing. Now take a seat, I made a shelf for your things while you’re here.”

Yuta lies on the bed, feeling the soft sheets under him. They smell like cherry blossom and feel amazing against his skin. There must be something in Seoul water.

“Now let’s eat something. How ‘bout we order take out?” Winwin blinks at him, looking so tall and big from that angle. He’s actually taller than Yuta, but his fragile figure makes him look so small and vulnerable, waiting for Yuta to protect him from the world. And hell, he’d gladly do that. He’d do anything to keep Sicheng safe and sound.

“Perfect.”

“Okay. Wait a minute,” Sicheng dials a nearby restaurant’s number. “I’d like two serves of takoyaki, please.”

Yuta’s eyes lit up, enormous smile spreading on his face. He adores this boy, it’s not a question anymore.

After eating, they rest for an hour before going to Neo. The building is not remarkably big, it has a few practice rooms and several vending machines on the hallways. Yuta treats Sicheng a hot chocolate and a strawberry croissant before they head to Room 3. Sicheng’s personal favorite.

“Hey,” a vibrant voice calls from a corner. Yuta remembers him. Ten. “Is this the guy you talked about?”

“Yeah. Yuta, meet Ten, my dance partner and best friend. Ten, he’s Yuta, my anime-buddy and part-time partner.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ten beams, shaking Yuta’s hand. “You came at the right time, I was just about to go. Johnny’s waiting for me. Bye bye,” he says and rushes out of the room. Yuta’s left alone with his thoughts and a joyful Sicheng.

“So? How you like it so far?”

“Nice,” Yuta nods absent-mindedly, eyes roaming around the practice room. This must be the one Sicheng usually records his videos in, there’s no way other rooms have the same, ugly chandelier, too. But even if they do, he’s seen those videos so many times he’s memorized even the tiniest details of the background. The devil heart sticker on the mirror, the chipped paint on the wall (how could he even notice that, is he such a maniac?) and other small things. Thank god Sicheng can’t see how many times a single person watched his videos. He’d put Yuta in an asylum and make sure he rots there. This level of obsession is certainly unhealthy.

He’s so immersed in his thought he doesn’t even hear Sicheng’s enthusiastic monologue.

“Are you even listening?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course I am!”

“Then what did I just say?”

“You said I’m the hottest man you’ve ever seen,” he grins, and to his surprise, Sicheng just tilts his head and smirks.

“That’s true, but I was talking about our costumes. They’ll be done by tomorrow.”

“Uh, good, fantastic.” Yuta can’t decide between jumping in excitement and violent panicking, so he just stands there, tittering awkwardly at Sicheng’s rather suggestive words. “Wait, how you know my size?”

“My mom happens to be a seamstress. She’s got an eye for it.”

“Oh my god, you show my dance videos to your mom?”

“Yes, of course. She really liked your hips, said you looked like a belly dancer. She even suggested making your dress look like Jasmine’s.”

“I mean, I’m in. But only if you dress up as Cinderella.”

“I’d make a great princess but let’s save it for another occasion. We gotta take it seriously.”

“Right, right. Shall we start it?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Sicheng smiles and before Yuta can even smile back, grabs the hem of his sweater and throws it to the ground.

Now Yuta has seen him nearly shirtless before, once in his One piece cover, then during a quick Skype call right after he finished showering. But seeing him like this, without a camera and several miles between them, he’s even more graceful and mesmerizing. His body is indeed fragile and thin, but also well built, thanks to the long years of dancing. The dim light of the chandelier dances on his abs, making him look even more toned and strong. Now that Yuta sees it in real life, he’s not that sure about him being more muscular. He’d lie if he said he doesn’t like it.

Sicheng must have noticed his intense gaze, or he simply doesn’t like being watched, so he quickly pulls out a tank top from his bag and puts it on. Now his abs are hidden, but his arms are still on display. His thin yet strong arms, they’d mercilessly hold Yuta close and—

“Can I… Get some water?” He asks, clearing his throat.

“Sure,” Sicheng smiles and reaches for his bag, searching for his water battle. As he bends down, Yuta’s eyes land on him yet again, his flexible, gorgeous body. He can’t help it, this position tickles hidden thoughts in the back of his mind, very, very ungodly thoughts. Oh, fuck. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, umm, thanks,” Yuta babbles, chugging the bottle, Adam’s apple bobbing as he drinks. He finishes the entire bottle, handing it back to Sicheng, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He looks like a terrible loser.

“Come on, won’t you change too?” Sicheng asks, fingers undoing his fly and in a split second, he stands in front of a frozen Yuta, insanely strong dancer legs almost naked. This boy’s such a tease!

“Yeah, sure.”

Yuta’s been always satisfied with his body. His frame is at the perfect spot on the board-thin scale, he’s fit thanks to the continuous practice, he believes in a sound mind in a sound body. But when he undresses, the air cold against his hot skin, he still feels ugly and miserable. A dirty serf in front of his precious lord. Relief spreads all over him when he finally puts on his clothes, the beloved gray sweatpants with a black jumper. He looks like the complete opposite of Sicheng in a small tank top and, oh fuck, _leggings_.

Sicheng gives him another smile, warm and shining and they finally get to the dance part. According to the choreo, Yuta’s the leading one – the man –, but Sicheng also takes control sometimes. If Yuta looks at the choreography, objectively, through a professional’s eyes, it’s perfect in numerous ways. The song is of an upbeat kind which normally requires an energetic, cheerful choreo, but there’s that pulsating undertone that softens the explosive vitality. As Sicheng phrased, an alcohol-flavored bubblegum.

After a rapid warm up, Yuta stands on the middle of the room, facing the mirror, while Sicheng stands behind him, arms crossed around his waist. Yuta expected him to keep some space between their bodies, but Sicheng almost suffocates him, in an absolute positive way. The music starts and so do they, bodies following the unusual rhythm, leading each other, working in a surprising synch. Yuta never thought dancing with Sicheng will be this easy.

The choreography comes to an end with Sicheng’s leg hooked around Yuta’s waist, so _close_ to him. It’s unexpected and surely nice, but Yuta’s face heats up at the thought of Sicheng’s lower parts nearly touching his. But if his blood is around his face, then it can’t be somewhere else, right?

Sicheng pants, chest heaving and finally lets go of Yuta, dropping down the floor, reaching for his bag for another bottle of water. Yuta wants to sit down, too, but he stands still instead. Didn’t Sicheng say he’s not a fan of skinship?

_Maybe it’s just Ten_ , he thinks, _maybe he smells like rotten fish_.

They practice the choreo again and again, to the point their legs can’t take it anymore. Sicheng’s the first one to collapse on the floor, at least Yuta won this round with his soccer stamina. But when Sicheng chuckles, motioning him to lie beside him, his knees get weak and involuntarily falls onto the floor, straight on Sicheng’s stretched out arm.

“God, I’m so sorry,” he breathes, but Sicheng just laughs, a laugh that sounds like a call from heaven.

“It’s okay. You’re not that heavy.”

So they just lie there for minutes, Yuta on Sicheng’s arm, muscles aching, heart about to rip from its cage.

***

“Sorry, my mom can be a little pushy sometimes,” Sicheng titters, apologetic as he opens the door of his room. The Dong parents wanted to have dinner with him and he stayed there, ignoring Sicheng’s protest.

“She’s so sweet.” _Just like you._

“She is, I love her. It’s just… I’m not sure if I’d be comfortable with it. If I had to eat with your parents or something.”

“Yeah, you said you don’t really like strangers.”

“Yeah. Of course it was different with you online. You were such a jerk I had to call you out on this.”

“And I’m very thankful for it,” Yuta beams, settling on the bed. “Uhh, can I take a shower? I probably smell like rubbish.”

“Sure. On the other end of the hallway. Just be quick.”

“Yes sir,” Yuta says and walks out of the room. Be quick, but why? Is it because Sicheng doesn’t want to be alone for so long? No, it’s just he doesn’t want a high water bill, which is understandable.

He’s under the shower, warm water ticking his sore muscles when he hears a soft knock on the door.

“Yuta, it’s me. I brought you a towel.”

And with that, Sicheng comes in, a purple towel in his hands. He carefully avoids looking at Yuta, even though the steamy glass hides everything. But Yuta looks at him through a little patch he cleared with his palm, the angelic Sicheng walking in and then out of the bathroom in a blink of an eye. Yuta lets out a quiet groan, annoyance and despair filling him as he leans against the wall, closes his eyes and lets his right hand drop to his crotch. He’s such a horrible person for doing this, but if that’s the cost of not being hard all night long, then he needs to do it.

“What have you been doing for so long?” Sicheng ask from under his blanket, amused. Yuta freezes, shock running through his body before he shakes his head.

“Told you I smell bad. Wanted to make sure I won’t suffocate you with my scent.”

“What a pure intention.”

It’s only when Sicheng gets up Yuta realizes he’s already in his pajamas, a loose t-shirt with kitten prints and a pair of boxers. Not being hard all night long, huh? Mission impossible has a brand-new meaning now.

When they’re back after brushing their teeth, Sicheng falls on the bed, tugging himself under the blanket. Yuta stands at the door, blinking fast.

“Where can I sleep?”

Sicheng pats the mattress beside him.

“Right here.”

“Sicheng. That’s not even a queen bed.”

“So what? You wanna sleep on the floor instead?”

“Didn’t you say you don’t like skinship?”

Sicheng shrugs. “I’m about to fall asleep in a minute, I wouldn’t even mind a regiment in my bed. That was an exaggeration before you question it. Are you gonna stand there all night or come and sleep?”

Yuta helplessly stumbles towards the bed, lying beside Sicheng who puts the blanket over him. A relatively small blanket on a relatively small bed, Sicheng’s body inches away from him. He can feel his heat, the slight trembling of his body, his small movements as he shifts to find the best sleeping pose.

“Good night,” Sicheng says, voice sleepy and turns off the bedside lamp. Yuta hears his consistent snores in a few minutes, but he can’t fall asleep for hours, too distracted by the amazing human being by his side.

He wakes up to the best feeling on Earth – Sicheng’s legs are tangled with his, arms around each other, faces only inches away, Yuta can feel the hot breath the other exhales. Their noses are actually touching and Yuta’s first reaction would be to panic, but he stays still, not wanting to wake Sicheng up. He looks so peaceful and beautiful in his sleep, it would be a deadly sin to disturb him. His sweet, dear Sicheng. His… What a stupid concept. He must be special for him, of course, otherwise he wouldn’t be so direct and open, but there is a difference between attraction and friendship. And no matter how deep Yuta falls for him, he can’t make Sicheng fall for him too.

“Hey,” the boy beside him murmurs, a dopey smile playing on his pretty face.

“Thought you were sleeping.”

“I was just too lazy to open my eyes. Did you just wake up?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“Good. Gimme a little time, I’ll make you breakfast after.”

“No, no, you don’t have to.”

“I wanna,” Sicheng giggles, shifting a little, inching even closer to Yuta, if that’s possible. Being with him like this, chest to chest, Yuta feels something utterly different. Until now he only felt either panicked or horny, depending on what Sicheng was doing. But now he only feels warmth and happiness exploding in him like tiny little bombs under his skin. He tries to swallow a smile, thumb gently caressing Sicheng’s back, earning a satisfied purr from him. Despite feeling warm, he’s got goosebumps all over him, there’s no way Sicheng didn’t notice it. But even if he did, he doesn’t pull away, instead he may hold Yuta even closer, so close he feels the unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat.

They stay there for five minutes before Sicheng stretches his limbs and gets up from the minuscule bed. “Don’t destroy my room while I’m away, please.”

“Can I borrow your laptop for a minute?” Yuta asks suddenly. “I need to make a Skype call.”

“Sure. Here it is.” Sicheng hands him the computer from his bedside table. “The password is… Uhh. It’s complicated. Lemme type it. Ooookay, it’s all yours. Come down when you’re done.” With that, the boy leaves the room and Yuta immediately texts to their group chat. In three minutes, all of them are in a video call, two pair of curious eyes looking at Yuta’s face.

“So?”

“Here’s the thing. I think I like him.”

“Wow, Sherlock, how observant you are! Poirot is a nobody compared to you!”

“Can you please shut the fuck up? I’m not finished. So as you can see,” he motions at the bed, “it’s not big. We slept here. Together.”

“Oh god!” Minseok practically screams, so loud Yuta needs to lower the volume. “What happened? We want details.”

“Nothing happened, we just slept. Like friends do. We are friends, after all. It just felt good.”

“You didn’t rape him in his sleep, right?”

“It’s not rape if it’s consensual,” Minho laughs, but Yuta waves him off.

“Told you we were just sleeping. And maybe cuddling a little, but hey, we’re friends!”

“You never cuddle us.”

“We never sleep in the same bed. The same baby-size bed,” he adds before the others can say they, in fact, do sleep in the same bed occasionally.

“You said he doesn’t like being touched.”

“He was sleepy.”

“Oh, right. Where is he now exactly?”

“Kitchen. He wanted to make breakfast.”

“Ladies and gents, a moment of silence for Nakamoto Yuta, the dumbest person to ever exist,” Minho says, rolling his eyes.

“Why am I dumb? I’d go with him, but I needed to talk with you.”

“And he still doesn’t realize,” Minseok sways his head, letting out long, noisy sighs.

“What should I realize?? Guys, there’s nothing to realize!”

“Your gayness blindfolded you way too much.”

“I’m not… I’m not gay,” Yuta’s voice goes an octave higher.

“You’re literally in love with a boy. Okay, you’re bi.”

“I’m not bi either. I’m… This sounds so fucking weird and cliché, but I think I’m Sichengsexual. Is it valid? Like I don’t think I’ll ever fall for someone else.”

“That’s totally gay, bro, I love it.”

“Well, thanks for the support,” Yuta awkwardly giggles. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“You’re so into him you lost your flirty mess attitude. This Sicheng guy must be a professional.”

“He’s a professional… Dancer. And the stealer of my heart. Oh god, this sounded so sappy!”

“Indeed. But Yuta, listen. You’re clearly lovesick. As far as we know, he likes you too. Why not make a move then? I don’t think you’d lose him, even if he rejects you. But if he’s also into you, then it’s a match, all happiness! Yaayy!”

“Our point is,” Minseok continues while Minho keeps clapping with his hands, “you should try to talk to him. You don’t have to rush in, just gingerly ask whether he likes boys, and if he does, you can go further. Don’t attack him like the fuckboy you are! I mean were.”

“Alright. I’ll do it tonight. Wish me luck. And treat me a hangover if I fail.”

***

“So, these are the costumes. Hope it fits,” Sicheng says, handing Yuta a canvas bag. His outfit is inspired by Midori’s, dark cherry color dominating with a hint of black and golden, warm and elegant, tickling their senses. It’s vibrant and conspicuous, just like Midori herself, and just like Yuta was until a few months ago.

Sicheng’s dress, on the other hand displays Chiyo’s timid, calm personality, light blue with silver and white, with lots of frill. Sophisticated and plainer, Sicheng’s usual behavior, which is now Yuta, unable to even raise his voice a little around him. Strange.

“Try it on,” Sicheng gestures towards the dress.

Yuta hesitantly undresses, then puts on his costume and wow. The dress is just his size, a leatherette lace around his waist, deep red circle skirt hanging around his legs. He looks at his reflection and the sight is more than satisfying. Then he sees Sicheng.

If he was pleased with his looks, the other’s make him dizzy. Sicheng’s dress has a long sleeve, down to his fingertips, his frame so thin-looking like a porcelain doll. He looks so happy wearing a dress, Yuta wants to straight up kiss him, right here, right now. But he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at him, they lock eyes through the mirror, Yuta’s sharp gaze against Sicheng’s warm stare. Does he feel it, too? Does Sicheng feel the cocktail of emotions in Yuta, the warmth, the safety, the bliss, the way his stomach clenches, the, what his teammates would call it, love? Does he want to go up to Yuta, wrap his arms around him and kiss him until they black out? Does he?

“You look nice.”

“You too,” Yuta says, shaken up from his musing. They’re still looking at each other through the mirror, but then Sicheng moves, walking towards Yuta.

“We shall start.”

So they dance again, the same enchanting dance, Yuta in his red dress, Sicheng in his blue, the popular opposites of each other, the hotness of Yuta and the coldness of Sicheng crashing against each other like day and night, yin and yang, love and rejection. But Sicheng, oh Sicheng looks like he’d never reject Yuta, or at least not now. His titillating movements, his whole presence sending shockwaves through Yuta’s body, stimulating his useless brain. That’s it. He’s useless when it comes to Sicheng, he’s just a vegetating biodecor, a talking ficus or something the other carries with him and dances around it with flowing little moves.

When the song, and therefore the choreo ends, Yuta wants do disappear, break free from this suffocating dream. Sicheng’s just too much to take, his aura provoking him, making him wanna do things he never thought he’d crave for. He doesn’t want to make out, he wants to kiss. He doesn’t want to dry hump, he wants to cuddle, rubbing nothing but their foreheads together. He doesn’t want to fuck, he wants to make love. What kind of vanilla Cupid has hit him with his arrow?

“That was nice,” Sicheng coughs, face red and sweaty. “It’s time to record it.”

“Yeah.”

Yuta quickly sets up the camera, taking a little more time watching Sicheng through it before returning beside him, gently brushing their hands together as he stands in position. Sicheng gives him a bright smile before the music starts and they do so, too.

If the previous round was bewitching, this one’s a whole out of body experience. Yuta can feel every little tremor of Sicheng, he can almost count his pulse. The whole act feels like he’s a different person, his soul trapped in a foreign body, and the only way to get his consciousness back is opening up to Sicheng, about everything, his repressed, overflowing feelings, his desire to hold him, to have him, to keep him close.

It’s the last minute of the song and Yuta doesn’t want it to end. He wants to keep dancing like this, touching Sicheng from time to time, feeling his silky skin, his tensing muscles, his everything.

But the song ends, they’re both there, exhausted, catching their breaths and instead of dropping on the floor, Sicheng steps closer and hugs him, hands gripping the back of his dress, head rested on his shoulder.

“You’re good, really really good,” Sicheng whispers to his ear, making Yuta lose his balance and trip, falling on the floor with Sicheng on top of him.

“You too,” he whispers back, hands caressing the sharp outline of Sicheng’s spine.

***

“Okay, I’m done,” Sicheng yawns, closing his laptop. The first recording was perfect, needed only some minor edits and while Sicheng was working on it, Yuta scrolled Norah-san on his phone, not paying attention to the posts. “I’ll upload it later, just need some food before. How ‘bout a ham sandwich?”

“Only if I can make you one,” Yuta looks up from his phone, following Sicheng downstairs.

After their gourmet dinner, Sicheng goes on Norah-san to upload the video while Yuta settles beside him, arms touching. He feels an irresistible urge to intertwine his fingers, but he stays still. He’s minutes away from a major confession.

“It’s up,” Sicheng smiles, puts the laptop away and turns the lamp off. Lying there in the dark actually helps Yuta gain courage. He’s just about to open his mouth, but Sicheng is faster.

“You know, I really don’t like skinship.”

“Oh, sorry,” Yuta says, trying to shift further but Sicheng continues.

“I, however, kind of like it with you. Is this strange?”

Yuta can see him turning to his direction.

“No, it’s fine. I like it with you, too.”

“I still can’t believe you’re the same boy who dared to criticize me back then. You’re changing.”

_There are things worth changing for._

“I am. But you changed the logo, too.”

“That was actually Ten. I just, I mean I may have suggested changing it. But it had nothing to do with you, of course.”

“Of course,” Yuta repeats, mouth going dry.

“I can’t imagine how you treat your friends, though. They are either despairing masochists or you’re holding them hostage.”

“Thank you,” he snorts, nudging Sicheng with his elbow. “No, we actually grew up together. Sort of. I’ve been playing in my club since I was five.”

“Okay, that’s understandable, even though little children are the biggest assholes. But what about your other friends? Or girlfriends? Oh god, you look for girls who are into being degraded, right?”

“Ha-ha, so fucking funny. I don’t. I have this thing called charisma, you know. I can wrap anyone around my fingers.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re saying the truth. But there must be a reason you’re single.”

“It’s other than me being a dick. Some people actually thirst for dicks like me. It’s just…”

“I’m listening.”

“I… I don’t want a relationship right now. But how about you? You’re also single, and don’t tell me you’re a dick, too, cause I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Well, I’m a bit scared of people. If I’m forced to spend time with them, we usually get along and that’s how I make friends, but most of the times I just back off and stay out of action. And since parties and other social events are the best places to find someone, I don’t really have a chance to meet people.”

“That sucks.”

“Indeed.”

Silence.

“I’ve had a girlfriend in 1st grade, though,” Yuta continues, chuckling at the memory. “Her name was Jihye. We even got married. I think that was my deepest love in my life. Well, of course before…” Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Before what? Do you like someone, Yuta?” Sicheng smirks, quirking an eyebrow.

“I don’t like anyone.” Well, that’s technically the truth, he _loves_ that exquisite thing beside him.

“Don’t be shy, tell her name.”

“Yeah. That. Her name. Yeah. It’s, umm, Sieun.”

“Hmm. Sieun. Sounds pretty. Is she pretty? Sure she’s pretty, you wouldn’t like her if she wasn’t pretty.”

“Yeah, she really is. She’s… Tall and thin. Reminds me of a ballerina. But she’s also strong. She’s a dancer, you know. So she does beautiful splits. And she’s just overall beautiful. Her eyes, especially. And her lips. They’re so full and look kissable. And she’s got adorable pointy ears. Oh, and she’s really, really sweet, she may seem a little cold at first, but she always makes sure I feel good. And she… And you’re being too good to me, so much more than I deserve. I’m just a rude fuckboy, I don’t have any value, yet you’re with me, you smile at me with that precious smile of yours and I feel like I deserve to be loved. And I don’t know how I earned it, but you really changed my point of view and I really, really didn’t mean to fall for you, but unfortunately there are things we just can’t control. So please give me a blanket and I’ll sleep on the floor tonight and leave with the first bus. Just please, please don’t be mad at me for so long. I don’t want you to be mad.”

He’s about to roll off the bed when Sicheng’s gentle hand wraps around his bicep.

“No. Yuta. Stay. Stay here with me.”

And with that, those lips of his dreams brush against his timidly, as if Sicheng’s afraid Yuta lied to him. But how could Yuta do such thing?

“What are you doing?” He asks, voice hitching up.

“I told you, Yuta, I’m not your popular person, I’m not everyone’s friend, let alone lover. But you… You’re really something else and I’ve never felt more secure than now. So if you meant what you said, please kiss me back and stay in my bed.”

The spark of confidence quickly lights the fire of bravery in Yuta when he understands Sicheng’s words. He could pretend those little things are platonic, but he can’t interpret the other differently now. His lips are on Sicheng’s, exploring it with restraint, then with a bigger force when he gets positive reactions. Their mouths fit together perfectly, a match made in heaven. Yuta’s hand fondly strokes Sicheng’s side, then pulls him closer by his shoulder blade.

Their kiss is nothing like the ones Yuta’s engaged in before. Those were messy alcohol-tasting crashes of lips with zero intimacy. Even his first one was with a girl he just met at a party at 14. He always felt like kissing was part of foreplay, an activity to rile each other up, something people do out of habit or compulsion. But not with Sicheng.

When they part, Sicheng tries to catch his breath, then, to Yuta’s surprise, reaches for his bedside table.

“I wanna know how many likes we have,” he says, grinning proudly and Yuta shakes his head, a restrained smile on his lips.

“You’re fucking amazing, my tiny dancer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, yeah, I mean I finished it at around 3am sooooooo  
> Yeah


End file.
